Only For you
by XFoxMuldersGirlX
Summary: ...Why did it happen? ...Why me?...Hannibal gives Clarice his reasons behind his actions... * Sexual Assualt mentioned*
1. Questions

Disclaimer: I own nothing :0( (only what happens to be in my imagination) All characters belong to Thoma Harris

Only For You

Clarice sat at the dresser in her bedroom, wearing nothing but her underwear and a faded, frayed , too-big-for-her football t-shirt. Pen in hand, she was desperately urging her words onto the blank sheets of paper in front of her. It was a letter she didn't want to write, didn't want to know the answers to her questions but had to find them out regardless: _why she had been there. Why had she witnessed what she saw?…_Frustrated tears welled in her eyes, as she willed the words to write themselves but didn't. Not that any of it mattered, even if she did mange to write the letter, she had no address to send it to. Her efforts were fruitless and she hated feeling so stupid. Squeezing her eyes shut and fighting back the tears that threatened to spill she felt the tranquillity of the room shift and change and Clarice felt him behind her. She knew it was him… It could never be any one else… only he has the physical presence to make the very atmosphere surrounding him tremble… Opening her eyes, and looking into the mirror in front of her, she did indeed see his reflection behind her. Her body battled itself at the sight of him. Part of her wanted to fight and argue and get answers, part of her wanted to run over to him and have him kiss her, while part of her, the rational, still "FBI" part of her told her to run, to do the smart thing: the last thing she should have was Hannibal Lecter in her bedroom. He wouldn't let her run though and she knew it. Clarice mentally noted that she had no form of defence with her. Not that it would have done her any good to have a gun or a knife or even a pointy stick next to her: she wouldn't have been allowed the chance to use them. Clarice didn't care about trivial things like that anyway…he _could_ hurt her and he _would_ do if she gave him reason to so self defence was pointless. All she cared about was the person she had been wishing to see so badly was here with her. All she could do no was sit and stare at him speechless. Hitching her knees up she shifted around on the stool so she was now facing him.

Looking at him, she saw the man she had she had meet in the dungeon so many years ago. The same man she had watched only a few days ago, escape the FBI…again. A long black trench coat hid a grey Versace suit of the absolute best quality. The sight of him filled her with anticipation and hope. His steel coloured eyes flashed as a sly smile crossed his face.

"Well, hello Clarice."

Being a true gentleman, he was polite to the end. On hearing his voice Clarice couldn't hide her joy, try as she might. It was cold, like ice, cold enough to freeze the blood in the veins of lesser men but not Clarice Starling. His voice didn't scare her, not even when they first met. As he spoke he removed his coat and placed it over the arm of her small wicker chair.

"How did you-"

she started, but then stopped before she made herself sound foolish. She knew better than to ask silly questions. It would only cause him to ridicule her. Remembering that he had been in her house on previous occasions, she realised that she didn't actually want to know how he did it… It should have scared her, this knowledge, her lack of concern for this blatant invasion of privacy by such a dangerous man. She, strangely enough though, felt oddly comforted by it. A small part of her that was buried right at the back of her brain was smart enough to remember just who he was and just what he was capable of but she also knew that while he respected her and while she respected him, she was safe: he would not harm her. Despite who he was, she was secure.

Clarice struggled to find her voice, wanting to say so much to him, but finding that she couldn't say anything at all. She felt as though she was choking on unsaid feelings and emotionally charged words that threatened to escape but that had no where to go… Staring at the man in front of her, Clarice did her best fish impression for a second before resigning her attempts to speak.

He knew she had needed to see him. When it came to Clarice Starling, Hannibal Lecter had a sixth sense. He had sensed her pain and had come to her. Although, when he had decided to come, he hadn't imagined that the next time he would see her that she would be wearing next to nothing, and looking divine for it. Not that he let his perfectly composed exterior slip and show his feelings. No. That would not be very polite at all. His eyes roamed over her partially naked body and he drank her all in… From her baby soft, long copper hair which hung about her shoulders, that reflected every beam of lamplight that touched it in the softly lit room, those hard blue eyes, that were not so icy cold as they seemed…that small mouth that didn't smile enough, with those pink lips surrounding it. He had only once had the pleasure of those lips and would like to have it again, and the next time he would like to have her respond to him like she had wanted to but hadn't, the first time. That single tear she cried as he kissed her had been her Judas. It had betrayed her feelings for him.

Down to her throat, and Hannibal could see her pulse, hidden as it was, behind smooth ivory satin, quicken under his gaze.

"I didn't expect to see you so soon, not that I mind seeing you, you understand. I rather enjoy spending time with you Ex Special Agent Clarice Starling."

He mused as he continued to memorise every inch of her. Her petite shoulders struggled to hold the washed out orange fabric of her t-shirt to her frame. Her breasts and stomach he could not see through the amount of excess fabric, but remembering what he saw as her dressed her for dinner, they were porcelain and perfect. Her stomach was tight and flat and she had just the right amount of curve to her waist.

Clarice, shifted uncomfortably as she watched him watch her with pale, intense eyes, feeling extremely exposed and vulnerable. She knew what he was doing: branding her, leaving invisible fingerprints on her skin, claiming her as his own. It wasn't what Hannibal was doing that made her uneasy, but rather that it brought back unpleasant memories that she was trying her damnedest to forget.

"I wanted…I started to…Now that you are…I…"

Clarice faulted, tripping over her tongue. She felt pathetic. _Yes Hannibal is in my house, in my bedroom, and yes he is eating me alive but I've talked to him before, shared secrets with him, so why can't I talk to him now?_

"Come now, Clarice."

he encouraged, as she bit her tongue to prevent any more broken sentences falling from her lips. He walked over to her , reminding Clarice of a cat stalking a mouse, and brushed a single strand of hair from her face. Blowing out her breath to calm herself down, Clarice started again, toying with the hem of her shirt. Hannibal followed her hands and saw the length of her nightshirt. It skimmed her thighs, showing creamy, well toned runners legs that led to shapely ankles and bare feet that were pretty and delicate.

"That's a good girl. Now, what were you saying?"

he enquired, sounding genuinely interested but knowing the answer.

"I was trying to write you a letter…"

Hearing her words, Clarice felt rather redundant and stupid. They came out of her mouth and fell flat.

"Yes, I can see that. Why, Clarice?"

If he had have been talking to anyone but Clarice, Hannibal would have been extremely patronising with that last sentence. Yes, his words were patronising and his tone was denigrating but Clarice knew enough to know that it was Lecters' way. She could have been offended by him if she so wished, but knew he would be upset if she were to find him displeasing.

"Because…because I want to know why Paul?…why like that? Why me?"

Finding her voice easier now Clarice felt bold enough to ask the questions she needed answers to.

"There are so many more like him, crawling on their knees, through mud and grime, all of them all too willing, whoring themselves out for money and power. Really, Clarice, …do you think the world misses Paul Krendler?"

"Well, no… but I…that doesn't make it…"

Clarice faulted, not through not knowing what to say, but because she knew he spoke the truth.

"He was working with Mason Verger, you know that Clarice. And as for "why like that?", I told you: He was rude and I detest rude people. Manners are everything Clarice, don't forget that. There is absolutely no reason for poor etiquette Clarice. Now to your final question…yes indeed, why you?"


	2. Answers

As he was talking he turned from her and clasping his hands behind his back walked back towards the bedroom door.

Giving his reason to the dusky pink wall he was looking at, rather than to his interviewer, Lecter explained why she had to be at the lake house to witness the death of Paul Krendler.

"You had to be there my dear, because he died for you… You see, I know what he did to you... After he propositioned you in the BSU, I know what happened in that corridor… I might have been in hibernation Clarice, but I was still watching you…and I know how you reacted afterwards. Stone cold and automatic. Going about the day as though nothing had happened. Only admitting to it once safe in your car…not knowing how you came to be standing in front of your door, keys in hand."

He turned to face her, eyes flashing with anger and pain and saw that his special little redhead had sank to the floor under the weight of unshed tears, pent up emotions and repressed memories. Clarice listened to him, seeing the unwanted, unwelcome memories that flashed in front of her.

… She had let him do that to her…hadn't she? She had tried to fight him, she had scratched and bitten and punched and kicked but it hadn't been enough… she had given in…given up, she had let him touch her, hurt her, bruise her… It was her fault… she hadn't been strong enough to stop him…

Sometimes she woke screaming at the nightmares. She could smell him, feel his hands on her, rough and painful, feel his mouth on her, feel him inside her. No amounts of hot water and scrubbing could remove the feel of him from her skin. No amount of alcohol was ever enough to block out the memories…

She was embarrassed, ashamed, angry, weak, scared, and she cried it all out in heartbreaking sobs, trembling in the most violent of ways as her emotions finally took hold of her after spending so long in denial. She let it all escape her, letting it flow down her cheeks…

Little Starling was no longer the hard edged FBI agent, who never let her guard down, incapable of emotions. She was finally human. Lecter's heart swelled with pride and sorrow as he watched her return to the world.

Clarice didn't know for how long she cried. Once her tears started to fall there was no stopping them, She sobbed until she physically couldn't cry anymore, all the while, Hannibal Lecter stood and watched, patiently waiting for her so that he could finish explaining his actions to her. He was just telling her what she had asked of him but he knew that once she had admitted to her past that she could survive it. Clarice was a fighter after all…She would survive this.

"You did it for me…?"

She whispered, in between dry sobs which prevented her saying anything above a whisper. A mixture of confusion and complete gratitude coloured her voice as well as her face which glistened with damp tears.

"Just for you. _Only_ for you, Clarice. I couldn't let him live knowing what he did…that he took your virginity, and in the most brutal of ways…"

Hannibal's voice held a air of sympathy but still, he remained distant and aloof. In his own way he was being gentle and caring with Clarice. He did what he did and he did it for his own reasons, unknown and misunderstood to people but Clarice understood his reasoning's, understood _him_. Hannibal continued:

" Never reporting what had happened…fearing that you would not be believed. The best female shot in the Bureau was abused by the Golden Boy? No, they would not believe you. So you kept it all to yourself and slowly it claimed you, squatting inside you, decaying away and killing you at the same time. And yet you didn't hate him. You didn't feel anything towards him, not hate, not anger, not fear. Nothing. You didn't see him when you looked at him did you Clarice? Looking right through him as though he wasn't there… No. I could not condone his behaviour Clarice, it was un-pardonable. He wanted you…so he took you, without your consent."

Clarice heard his words and they made her feel, for the first time in weeks. Never had anyone done anything for her like Hannibal had. No body else ever would… He had killed for her honour… The thought of it made her body react to him. She felt warm and wanted with the knowledge of what Hannibal Lecter would do for her…

"Tell me Clarice, Could I have let him live?"

he asked. He knew that he could not.

It didn't occur to Clarice to care about who it was who had just seen her façade shatter. She didn't care…She had been through an experience that was humiliating and scary and something that no one should ever, _ever _have to go through. She knew Hannibal Lecter had enough compassion for the human heart to allow her her moment, he wouldn't insult her for it, judge her or think her weak. After all she, like most people, needed to break in order to begin to heal.

Clarice slowly, carefully realised what she had been afraid to admit in the past. Taking her time to stand up and regain her composure she walked towards the back of her bedroom, slowly, deliberately, and stopped in front of Hannibal with only centimetres between them. She looked into his aged face, her own damp and tear streaked but shining with emotions never spoken, but always known.

"Do _you_ want me?…I'm yours if you do…"

Nervously she whispered to him but her smile was a brave one, not one of misery and defeat, but a victors smile, before letting him claim her mouth for just the second time. Hannibal devoured her tear stained lips, finally _completely_ tasting the girl he had wanted for so long.

She was with her endangerer and her protector, her lion… and she was his lamb.

"That's my girl…"

He growled against her swollen mouth.

True to her word, Clarice gave herself completely, _willingly_, to the only man she could never imagine herself to be without. The one she loved. The man who was more than twice her age, the _only_ man who truly was worthy of her, the man who loved her too…

The criminal.

The killer.

The cannibal.

The End


End file.
